


Flogging It, or, Triumph, and Satisfaction

by shyfoxling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: hp_wankfest, Don't Take This Too Seriously, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-23
Updated: 2011-06-23
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyfoxling/pseuds/shyfoxling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-war. Sirius and Severus are generating cash by selling naughty pictures, and one of their photo sessions goes further than expected. (Prompt chosen was Sirius Black, 12 Grimmauld Place, flying motorbike.) AU: Severus and Sirius are magically <strike>delicious</strike> alive post-DH.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flogging It, or, Triumph, and Satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Wankfest in 2011. Thanks to my betas (gosh, I hate when I forget things like this long after the fact. [Delphi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/delphi)? and [r_grayjoy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/r_grayjoy)) for putting up with my nervous breakdown.

"Where did it go, where did it go..." Sirius muttered as he rummaged through a large trunk in one of the repurposed bedrooms of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Old robe, assorted parchments, odd socks, cheap novels, box of tooth floss, jars of dried-up paint (no brushes), packet of some kind of blue powder, beat-up metal things, general flotsam... damn it, Snape was due to be there soon for their latest photo shoot, and he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he and his camera weren't instantly ready to go upon the git's arrival.

He snorted with derision as he searched. As if Snape's time was so pressed-upon these days! It wasn't like he had essays to mark or students' problems to deal with or any megalomaniacal masters to answer to in these years after Harry's amazing defeat of Voldemort. Sirius had to grant, though, that coming back from the dead (or the as-good-as-dead, anyway) did give one a certain perspective on the value of the time one had. Snape hadn't quite made it all the way to _dead_ before aid had reached him, of course, but he supposed almost-dead was quite enough to be going on with.

"Aha!" he said, finally extracting his antique-looking camera and a canister of magically-extended film from the jumble that occupied the trunk. He slung the camera over his shoulder, laughing a little under his breath as he went downstairs into the drawing room. This had to be, what, three years they'd been at this racy picture racket? He was sometimes still surprised that he'd seen something attractive enough about Snape to suggest it. But he had a need for an income, and he certainly wasn't going to take back the money he had left to Harry; he'd only taken back the house because Harry agreed to take Kreacher with him and talk Bill and Hermione into putting their heads together on doing something about his mother once and for all. And as it turned out, Snape's naked body was nowhere near as hard on the eyes as the uninitiated might guess; Sirius often found himself enjoying the view.

Sirius was far less sure about what miracle had caused Snape to acquiesce to all this the first time, and every time after, for that matter. He could use the money too, of course, but surely he had other means at his disposal for supporting himself. Sirius never really thought about whether _Snape_ enjoyed this enterprise or not; he assumed he had his own reasons and if you thought you might get Severus Snape to discuss his private motivations for doing anything, you had another think coming. Still, he had to wonder if maybe the bastard secretly got off on it. In any event, given the returns they'd got so far, it was a lucky thing he had stowed away the camera he'd played with sometimes as a student, fancying himself a real _artiste_ like certain Muggles.

Sirius was just setting the camera down on the coffee table when the doorbell rang. He jumped; even after several years, he still couldn't get used to the sound that once heralded instant screaming from his mother's portrait. He tucked the film in his pocket and went to open the front door.

"Ah, Snape, unfashionably punctual as always." Sirius favored him with an _aren't-I-clever_ kind of smile, which Severus answered with a sour look. "I've got a great idea today. You're going to love this one."

"Pray forgive my skepticism," Severus said, following Sirius back into the drawing room and sitting down in one of the chairs. He watched as Sirius fetched two glasses, filled them with red wine, and set them down on either side of the camera. "Ah. Apparently convincing me of the greatness of this idea is first going to require getting me drunk."

"Not at all," Sirius said innocently. "A good wine is important for getting into the properly sophisticated artistic mood." He gave a flourish with one of his hands.

Severus eyed the camera and the glass of wine in front of him, thinking it would probably take something more like absinthe—or a healthy dose of laudanum—to get him into the "properly sophisticated artistic mood" for this madness. "Yes, because this venture is so _artistic_ in nature."

"And yet you keep coming back. You grumble like this but you keep doing it. If I didn't know better I'd say you liked being watched," Sirius ventured, although this line of questioning had never borne fruit before. True to form, Severus merely held his gaze, one eyebrow slightly cocked as if to say _you'll have to be much sneakier than that, Black._ Giving up for the time being, Sirius continued, "Do you know, Cardell tells me he almost always sells out when he puts a spread of you in the magazine. Who knew there were so many witches and wizards out there who'd pay good Galleons for photos of a bit of—"

"Black, if the word _totty_ passes your lips, I swear I will—"

"Tut! Would I call you that? A seventeenth time, I mean. No faith, this one." Sirius directed this last remark to the contents of his glass, and drank deeply. "I was going to say 'lean, dark, and snarly', but if you're going to be like that I think I'll have to go with 'scrawny old chicken'."

Severus sneered and picked up his own glass, sipping at it irritatedly as he looked away. Uh-oh; the wine was really rather good. The mutt must have something truly dastardly planned for today. "So what new, humiliating scene is on our docket?" He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself sounding too eager.

"Funny, you've never seemed all that humiliated before. In fact I don't think I've seen so much as a blush creep up those pretty cheeks of yours since the first shoot." Sirius's sarcastic tone on "pretty cheeks" certainly wasn't lost on Severus, and he scowled. "Oh, unless we're talking about that one time with the enchanted paddle. You know. Blush. Cheeks," Sirius added, wiggling his eyebrows. Severus did go a bit pink then, but Sirius fancied it wasn't from humiliation.

"Would you just answer the question?"

"Why don't I just show you," Sirius replied, getting up from his chair, still holding his wine, and slinging the camera over his shoulder. "Out back."

Severus sighed, downed the rest of his wine in one go, and followed Sirius out to the small garden terrace behind the house. There was a wooden gate set into the surrounding brick wall that Severus was fairly certain had not been there in the days when the house was the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, not that serving in the Order had involved taking a lot of leisurely afternoon teas back here.

Sirius pushed the gate open and walked through. To Severus's further confusion, it opened into a dim interior space with a concrete floor, rather than into the neighbors' back terrace as one would have expected just from looking at it.

"How do you feel about motorbikes?"

Nonplussed, Severus looked at Sirius, then followed his soppy, loving gaze over towards—

Ah. A motorbike, indeed. Quite a large one, in fact, and oddly, it looked somehow familiar. He studied their reflections in the expanses of shiny black paint and chrome for a moment. Then a memory surfaced in his mind: Hagrid's giant form astride the thing with Harry Potter beside him in a sidecar. He hadn't got a thorough look at it at the time because he'd chased off after that werewolf and one of the Polyjuiced Potters, but though it now lacked the sidecar, he had little doubt it was the same bike.

"That business a few years ago when Potter turned seventeen and the Order used all those decoys to move him to a safe house—wasn't this what Hagrid was flying? I heard he'd crashed it rather badly."

"Arthur, bless him and his spanners. Got all the wreck from Tonks's dad and did a fair job putting her back together."

" _Her?_ "

"Of course, Snape. Like a ship or a car. A Triumph like this is a thing of elegance and beauty." Sirius punctuated this assertion with a caress to the front fender that Severus frankly thought was a bit inappropriate.

"I might beg to differ."

Sirius huffed. "You might beg to be an ignorant arse, then. But fortunately, your opinion doesn't matter so long as you can still keep your pecker up for a while."

Severus's brows became acquainted with the region of his hairline. "Just _what_ are you intending for me to do?"

"Oh, relax. Nothing worse than usual." Severus looked like he thought this wasn't saying all that much, and Sirius chuckled. Setting the camera and his wine down on the workbench of the ersatz garage, he strode over to where a black leather jacket hung on the wall. Chains and buckles jingled as he swiped it off the hook and held it out to Severus. "Just shuck all that," he said, nodding at Severus's robes, "and put this on while I get set up. Oh, and these," he added, fishing a pair of heavy black boots out from a corner. "Yours aren't really the right style."

Severus regarded the jacket and boots a little disbelievingly, but took them. Sirius Black's mind really was a strange place sometimes, although he supposed over a decade in Azkaban topped off with a round trip to whatever realm was on the other side of that artifact in the Department of Mysteries might do that to a man. He set the costume bits down on the floor and began to undress.

Meanwhile, Sirius bustled about loading the camera, lighting various lamps with magical flame and conjuring a spread of plain cream cloth against the longest wall, behind and just under the bike. Having done this, he stepped back a few feet and gazed at it, tapping his wand against his cheek, like a painter considering where to begin.

"Hmmm... what do you think, Severus?"

"I think you're a lunatic," Severus replied, not looking up as he pulled the boots onto his feet.

"For a _backdrop_ , you berk." Sirius shot him a glare, then returned to looking at the cloth. "Needs a good setting. This is supposed to be exotic and sexy, not advert photography."

"Ah. And here I thought I was in fact for sale." There was more jingling from the jacket as Severus swung it onto his shoulders.

Sirius turned to look at Severus properly, and forgot his irritation. "Oh, brilliant," he said, a smile blooming on his face. "Hey there, hot stuff!"

"Fuck off."

"I'm not joking! Black leather looks good on you. I'll have to think of some other variations on the theme in future."

" _Do_ fuck off."

Sirius merely gave him another bright smile and beckoned him over to the bike, which Severus dubiously approached. "Now, you just take a few moments to get acquainted with Tabitha here."

" _Tabith—_ " Severus broke off mid-word, squeezed his eyes shut, and pressed his lips together; then he sighed. "I think I am going to require more of that wine before we go any further."

"Ah-ah, we can't have anything like a drunken flush ruining that surprisingly oh-so-marketable pallor of yours." Sirius stroked the backs of his fingers across Severus's cheek, and Severus nearly bit them off except that he was so surprised by the tenderness of the gesture that he couldn't do anything at all for a moment.

Either ignoring or oblivious to this effect, Sirius waved his wand back and forth in the general direction of the cloth on the wall. Various blurry images appeared and faded into one another as he thought aloud. "So... a racing circuit? Desert highway, maybe, something with a little Western flavor? Ah, I've got it! Tabitha flies, yeah, so—sky! Clouds! The countryside from the air!" He clearly had some specific memory in mind, because just such a scene solidified rather quickly.

Severus folded his arms and regarded Sirius and his wand-work skeptically. "And how, exactly, is it plausible for me to be pulling myself off whilst simultaneously piloting a flying motorbike over hill and dale?"

"Come on, Snape. This is _pornography_ , not one of your delicate spy operations."

"Nor an exercise in any kind of logic, apparently."

"Like I said: pornography."

Severus couldn't find a way to argue with that, and resigned himself to "getting acquainted" with... with _Tabitha_ , exploring the motorbike's bodywork and details. He wasn't going to say it aloud, but actually the machine was rather pleasing to the touch: cool, slick, dark (rather like he fancied himself). He experimented with a couple of sitting and leaning positions, and decided he'd better spell the bike to stay upright by itself. Whatever Sirius said about plausibility not being required, it would look rather foolish to have the thing both ostensibly flying and obviously leaning on its kickstand.

"Ready?" Sirius prompted as Severus laid his wand on the work table. The camera was hovering in the air beside him, regarding Severus impassively with its single glass eye.

"I don't believe one is ever _ready_ for this kind of thing, but very well, let's begin." This wasn't quite true; despite his earlier sharp "fuck off", he was starting to like the leather, and feeling a bit flattered that Sirius was setting him in a scene which obviously had personal appeal and meaning for Sirius himself.

Sirius finished off his wine and moved to stand behind the floating camera. "Then... action!"

Severus rolled his eyes at this pretentious utterance and turned his attention to his cock, which he began stroking in a straightforward way. (First things first, after all.) It was funny, really; he'd always seemed to be one of the least desirable people in the school, either as a student or a professor, and least of all to Sirius Black. Yet here he was, getting good money for—ahem— _interesting_ pictures of himself because apparently lots of women (and not a few men) _did_ want to see him like this. And the cherry on the sundae was that _Black_ was the photographer!

He thought of how it would be if the tables were turned, Sirius displayed on this bike in just a leather jacket and boots, hard cock in hand, and Severus selecting the choicest moments to capture on film. Apparently that put an attractive look on his face, because he heard an approving noise from Sirius and the first _click_ of the camera shutter.

Severus wondered for a moment whether it might actually be possible to masturbate while flying a motorbike, and quickly concluded that his hands would be too occupied. So he imagined himself a companion, placing Sirius behind him on the thing as he drove under a star-strewn sky. (In his mind they were younger lads again, of course; though Sirius was more handsome than a man who'd languished in Azkaban _and_ come back from the dead had any right to be, he was nothing like the prize stallion he'd been in his youth, and as for Severus, well, he knew being forty-two and counting did him no favors, and for this purpose he definitely wanted some favors.)

He was surprised how delicious a picture it made to have a young, gorgeous Sirius Black pressed hot and close to his back as they streaked through the air, dark hair flying out behind him, arms about Severus's waist and hands eagerly working over Severus's prick. Severus wasn't much for broom flight, but _this_ was something else altogether. He moaned softly in his throat and reached one hand down to squeeze his balls as the fantasy Sirius pressed his teeth firmly but not painfully into Severus's shoulder.

"Wow," said the real Sirius under his breath, clicking the shutter every few seconds with little gestures of his wand and pressing at a growing erection of his own with his other hand. He wondered what Severus was thinking of that was putting such a wonderful arch into his back and that beautiful little line between his brows, drawn together in pleasure.

Whatever it was, it certainly had got him good and worked up, breathing harder and squirming a little on the seat of the bike as he stroked himself up and down, the purple-red head of his cock emerging from his fist and then being swallowed by it again and again. It was almost on another level from all his previous performances. Sirius reckoned that what was called for at this point (purely from a sophisticated artistic perspective, of course) was some nice, smoldering eye contact.

"Severus?" he prompted quietly, not wanting to disturb the unexpectedly hot and heavy mood too much.

The black eyes opened at the sound of their owner's name. They nearly glowed with lust, in a way Sirius would never have imagined they could. Of course you couldn't call these little episodes of theirs exactly free of sexual energy—they wouldn't have sold well if they were utterly flat—but they'd always been going about it as business; something to get finished with and then get on with the day. _This_ was different. _This_ was a Severus Snape transformed, and Sirius doubted he could take his eyes off him if he tried. Not that he had any desire to try; in fact, he was engaged in a struggle with a rather different desire at the moment. It was not made easier by the way Severus gave a little gasp and swiped his tongue quickly across his lower lip as he made an apparently highly pleasurable twisting motion with his hand.

A pool of dragon fire seemed to gather in Sirius's groin, rush up his spine and spill over. He felt as if scorching, lambent cords of magic were binding their gazes together. " _Yeahhh..._ " he breathed, but managed to restrain himself; this was a one-man show, and spoiling it by getting himself in front of the camera would mean having to start all over. He tried to ignore the voice in his head (or was it down the front of his trousers?) saying _is that so bad?_ as he devoured the scene before him, but it was presenting a convincing argument. So he did the only thing he could think of to shut it up: after casting a hasty (and hazy) charm to set the camera clicking on its own, he took out his own prick and started wanking himself.

Severus gaped at this. Never before had Sirius joined in, even from the other side of the camera. Severus found himself becoming very interested in the sight of Sirius leaning back against the table, feet planted apart and hips thrust forward, long dark hair thrown back over his shoulders, and palming the cock jutting from his trousers.

Sirius smoothed his hand around, making the head of his prick shiny with the drops of fluid his fingers trailed through. He now wanted _very_ much to know what was the wonderful image in Severus's head that had started all this, and formed the question with throat, tongue, and lips that really would rather have been doing something else.

"You," Severus growled, wincing slightly as though admitting this hurt him somehow. He was thrusting his hips gently, pushing his cock into his right hand, pressing behind his balls with the fingertips of the left. His eyes were hooded and he was looking at Sirius like he was a precious artifact he dared not touch. "Unh... _you..._ behind me."

Sirius could think of a number of activities that would include this positioning of bodies, anything from a back rub to a good, sound buggering, but he wasn't about to be picky. The knowledge that Severus had made _him_ the agent of his pleasure in some way was far more intoxicating than the whole bottle of wine would have been. For a second time he had to fight down an urge to lunge at Severus, push him down and suck him, fuck him, _anything_ him.

Frustrated, he had to force his hand to slow down and loosen its grip; he didn't want to come without seeing Severus do it first. Talking might provide a little bit of distraction from too quick a finish, but it also ran the risk of supplying extra stimulation from the sound of Severus's voice, especially if he coaxed him into saying something wonderfully filthy. Well, Sirius Black was never one to back away from a risk...

"What... oh God, do that again, gotta get _that_ on film... what did I look like?"

Severus gave him a half-smile. "Vain... _ahhh..._ as ever, Black?"

"Yeah, _unh!, mmm_ whatever, sure. Just shut up and tell me." He realized this was stupid as soon as he'd said it, but held Severus's gaze as defiantly as he could all the same. (And speaking of running risks, at the moment he felt distinctly at risk of developing a massive schoolboy crush on another forty-something man.)

Severus realized then that his earlier sense of being flattered had been spot-on: he was being egged on not merely for the purpose of getting better shots, but for Sirius's private stimulation. The thought made him feel simultaneously uncomfortable—exposed to Sirius's molten-steel gaze, on display in a way that having his picture out there in magazines somehow did not compass—and very, _very_ aroused.

"Younger... and so—so _different_ from me," Severus stumbled, not wanting to say the words _fucking gorgeous._

"Oh bollocks," Sirius replied, fondling his own pair and squeezing his eyes closed for a moment at the pleasure. "You're not bad at all. _Ahhh_ —never—never were..." _And certainly not like this,_ he thought, savoring the contrast of the black leather against Severus's pale skin and the look of the boots at the end of his long, slender legs.

"Bollocks indeed!" Severus retorted, thrusting himself angrily into his own hand. " _Nnuhh!_ Could have—could have fooled me, all that time..." He reached one hand over to touch his wand on the workbench and thought an incantation that slicked both his cock and Sirius's with warm, tingling oil.

" _Aiiiiuhhh..._ " said Sirius. "You... bastard! How dare—fuck, that's—that's so good. God, this is going to leave—ah!—leave such beautiful magic on her..."

"Is that what this is all about? _Oh!_ Can't fly, needs more magi— _ohhhh..._ " Severus trailed off into a moan as creamy whiteness shot from his cock, spattering the black leather with pale streaks.

Sirius watched his eyes roll back and his mouth go slack, and grinned in triumph and satisfaction. Severus always had the most beautiful looks on his face when he came. Eager to finish himself off now, he stroked with real vigor. In just a few moments he felt the hot pulse of oncoming ecstasy, and cried out—

And then there was a _crunch_ and a sound of shattering glass when the camera plummeted to the floor.

"Ahh, shit," Sirius sighed, not opening his eyes.

"Are we finished?" Severus said.

"Is that sarcasm?" Sirius replied, post-orgasmically bereft of intelligence and not inclined to take on one of Severus's verbal puzzlers at the moment. There was a pause, and Sirius fancied he could _hear_ Severus smirking.

"I meant the _camera._ " A creaking of leather and rattle of chains followed as Severus got up off the bike and went to start dressing himself.

"Oh, that," Sirius replied. "I guess we must be. I mean... you know." He opened his eyes and looked sadly at the camera, then wiped himself off with a towel that was folded on the work table. "Still, though, you have to agree this idea was a good one, yeah?"

" _Yeah,_ " Severus replied, mockingly imitating Sirius's tone. He picked his wand up from the workbench and waved it in a silent gesture. The camera magically reassembled itself.

"Hey, I was getting there," said Sirius.

"Of course you were," said Severus dryly.

Sirius frowned briefly at him, but said nothing, and zipped himself up. He collected the camera from the floor and watched as Severus finished fastening himself back into his forbidding black linen armor. He had always assumed Severus girded himself thus to keep something of the world out, but after the spectacle he'd just seen, he wondered if maybe it was partly to keep the intensity _in._ His eyes followed Severus's pale hands as they smoothed down his robes.

"May I help you?" came Severus's tart voice, as though they hadn't just had intense orgasms in each other's presence.

Sirius brought his gaze up. There was still a touch of pink on Severus's ears and cheekbones, and though his breathing was almost back to normal, it still seemed a bit shallow and fast. "Didn't you just?" Sirius said, blinking a few times and then indicating the camera almost as an afterthought.

Severus made an offended noise and smoothed his robes again unnecessarily. "If this is to continue, Black, may I suggest you acquire a tripod? Just so we needn't worry about your _concentration_ if you get a bit excited," he said a little too rapidly, and swept across the room towards the door.

"Of course. Anything for our art," Sirius said after him. Severus fought down the urge to turn back and stick his tongue out like a child; Black would probably only consider it an encouragement. On thinking this, he had to fight a following urge to do it anyway: would that be so bad? _Yes, yes it would!_ he told himself; even at their age, Black still seemed to have only the shakiest of grasps on the concepts of discipline or restraint.

 _Restraint..._ hmmm. A plan started to form in Severus's mind, and he smiled to himself. Stopping in the doorway of the "garage" on his way out, he turned back to face Sirius. "Black," he purred, and Sirius raised his eyebrows, curious. "Regarding our next... appointment. I believe I have a concept that should prove intriguing for both of us, but it shall require some preparation. Will you await my owl?"

Sirius folded his arms and laughed. "So now you're the director as well as the talent?"

"Need I remind you I can withdraw from this at any time?"

"Oh, don't get your wand in a knot, Snape. One of these days you should really learn to recognize affectionate teasing when you hear it."

"Forgive me if I have difficulty applying that concept to our particular case," Severus snapped. "Very well; if you are afraid of what I might come up with, then I suppose I shall have to—"

"God, re _lax,_ " Sirius said, raising his voice a little. "And I can get you a dictionary if you need to look up that word. I'm sure I'm game for whatever you're thinking of." He was a little worried he might regret saying that, but what else could he say? He couldn't possibly let Snape get the idea he could think of something that would be too much for Sirius Black's stomach.

Severus narrowed his eyes at Sirius, then smiled slyly. "Excellent," he said, in a way that sent a chill up Sirius's spine. "I'll see myself out, then." He strode back onto the terrace and vanished from view as he closed the door behind him.

Well, well. With a delivery like that, Sirius agreed that whatever picture was in Snape's head was indeed likely to "prove intriguing". _And speaking of pictures..._ He rewound the film, unloaded it from the camera, and tossed the canister into the air, catching it behind his back with a little spin. _Let's go see if I've got a masterpiece!_


End file.
